Red Eye
by the risky business of writing
Summary: AH. Klaus is a hitman for hire, and his new target is Caroline Forbes. Based on the movie Red Eye.


_A/N: i don't know if this AU has been done before but I've been meaning to write something for this couple so, there you go. A couple of lines are taken from the script, with some obvious changes here and there. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **One**

* * *

No one looks chipper in an airport, as a rule, but she somehow proves the exception.

Nothing seems to deter the bubbly blonde as she wades her way through the throng of unhappy travelers, dragging a sleek black suitcase behind her. She is wearing an impeccable dark blue suit that sets off her carefully styled locks. Her make-up is light and fresh. Her tasteful pumps look comfortable enough to negotiate a busy airport in, but not suited for running.

An untrained eye would deem her a woman of leisure and wealth.

But he knows better. He has been following her for almost two months now. She is not an ostentatious creature. Her outfit, though a measure of her important status, is subdued and professional. She is a woman that caters to other people's needs. Her smile is radiant, like a lighthouse in the sea, but whether it is a genuine reflex or a practiced exercise is hard to tell.

She happily concedes her spot in line at the coffee kiosk when an older woman behind her pleads that she has an errand to run. She only huffs a little when an unruly child almost runs her over with his backpack and she waves it off with a laugh when the family responsible for him tries to apologize.

Caroline Forbes is without reproach.

Well, except for the anxiety medication that she keeps in her bathroom cabinet. And the sparse neurotic episodes that usually culminate in her either scrubbing her house obsessively from ceiling to floor or working overtime at Mystic Falls Hotel until she falls asleep at her desk. As Acting Manager of one of the biggest chains in Virginia she is quite often seen taking on too many responsibilities and dedicating every waking moment to her job, because she believes no one else can do it better.

She is a compulsive perfectionist. One that should crack easily under pressure.

* * *

"I'm _so_ sorry to call you this late, I know you're probably about to board the plane but –"

"It's okay, Bonnie, talk me through it. What's the situation?"

Caroline switches her phone from her left to her right ear. She smiles outwardly as her mind focuses on the problem at hand. A minor hang-up with the Wilson family, nothing that can't be resolved in a matter of minutes.

"I can't seem to find their reservation, but I swear it was in the system this morning," Bonnie explains in a low voice. Caroline can hear Mr. and Mrs. Wilson grumbling in the background.

"We've been waiting for over half an hour! This is inadmissible! We've got the receipt off the Internet!"

"I know, ma'am, please calm down," Bonnie asks halfheartedly.

"No, don't tell them to calm down, that'll only make it worse," Caroline says over the phone. Of course, Mrs. Wilson goes off on a tangent about the concierge's _bold_ attitude.

"I haven't been told to calm down in my life! We're not children!"

"Should I tell them the reservation has been erased due to malfunction or overbooking?" Bonnie whispers in the phone.

"No, that'll just give us a bad rep. Here's what you to do. Tell them to give you one more minute and you _promise_ you'll make them very happy."

Bonnie repeats the words exactly.

"Now," Caroline instructs patiently, "go into Overwrite Booking. I'm going to give you my PIN ….It's 55279, underscore, Forbes. When you're logged in, click on Crisis folder, and you'll see a bunch of free rooms. Give them the one on the fourth floor, but make the first two nights free, for their trouble, and make sure you have a bottle of white wine sent upstairs, I remember they really liked our Pinot Grigio last year…"

She's pulled out of her mental strategizing when a voice on the speakers announces that the last flight to Virginia has been cancelled, due to weather contingencies. A general groan issues from the people around her.

"Shoot…" Caroline trails off, staring at the announcement board where flights are being changed before her eyes. She meant to say _Shit_ , but she always has control over the situation.

"Is everything okay?" Bonnie asks over the line.

"Yes, yes, everything's fine, I just have to find a new flight home. Did you manage to resolve the matter with the Wilsons?"

"Um, I think so, but they didn't seem happy with the relocation."

"To be expected," Caroline mutters, raising her head over the crowd, spying for the right counter where she can go and be rerouted. "Any other problems on your end?"

"Well, security called about Saltzman. Apparently, he'll be arriving at 7 AM instead of 6."

Caroline dips into her purse for a painkiller. "That's fine, it's probably a protocol thing."

"Is this guy Platinum or what?"

"No, just Homeland, political. Make sure there are Montecristo Cubans in the room and champagne on ice." She swallows the pale blue pill.

"Gotcha. Thanks Care, you've been a life-saver, once again. Have a save flight!"

"Thanks, take care!"

She sounds a lot more chipper than she feels, but the pill will kick in soon and she'll be able to handle her anxiety better. She's not defeated by a simple flight change. Yes, she's supposed to be there when Saltzman arrives, but she's confident she will make it. She's been in hairier situations in her life. In fact, his delayed arrival means she has a better chance of making it on time.

Caroline smiles to herself. You just have to find the positive in everything. That's how you get through.

* * *

He's been making himself inconspicuous, acting like a weary and bored passenger whose flight has been cancelled. He appears to be reading an article on his phone, even though he's actually listening in very carefully. He has positioned himself in her queue. They're both waiting for the red-eye flight that'll take them to Virginia. She hasn't noticed him or looked behind her which is good. He doesn't want to make his entrance too early.

She's on the phone with her mother. Oh, the irony. If only she knew how important dear ol' mum would be in the future.

"If anyone's working too hard, it's you," Caroline is saying in a muffled voice. There is a loaded pause. "Well, I got that from you. Yes, I'm _fine_. I promise. I got your email, but I don't think I can make it for Thanksgiving. I know, Mom, but it's a really busy season and you know, the senator wants to hold the gala in our ballroom–"

She's not paying attention to her surroundings. Liz Forbes has that effect on her. A burly man who was previously waiting behind her pushes his way forward when the ticket officer calls "Next!"

Caroline is caught off-guard. The man sneers over his shoulder. "You snooze you lose."

Klaus can see her features sharpening perceptibly and she opens her mouth to say something in response, but at the last minute she reins in the flare in her temper. It's almost impressive how quickly she shifts gears.

"That's all right," she says sweetly, "I'm sure your rudeness is only a side-effect of our current predicament and not a general personality trait."

The man is not so thick that he doesn't perceive a hidden insult, but her manner is so genteel that it's hard for him to think of a comeback, which only angers him more.

"Listen here, lady, I've been waiting for over three hours, and your hoity-toity attitude is the last thing I'm in the mood for. So shove it."

"I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?" she asks, innocently enough.

"You have a lot of nerve, you little–"

Klaus lowers his phone. "Watch your language, mate. You don't want to be escorted by security, do you?"

And there it is. The perfect entrance.

* * *

"Stay out of this, mister –"

"You're the one who took her spot, the least you can do is be nice about it."

"No one asked _you_ –"

Klaus reaches forward and grabs the man's wrist, putting enough pressure on it to make him pay attention. He could easily break his whole arm if he so wished. "We're all just trying to get home. Don't make it difficult on yourself."

His voice is perfectly calm but there is a level of ice in it that makes the man's puffed cheeks falter. He shakes his hand out of the strong grip and takes a step back resentfully, allowing Caroline her initial spot.

She doesn't have the chance to really thank her savior because she's called up to the ticket stand. All that she managed to gather was that he's British and rather good looking.

She gets booked on the red-eye and steps aside, making room for her disgruntled nemesis.

She could just walk away and forget the whole thing, but that would be incredibly rude. And she's _not_ rude.

She has to express her gratitude to the helpful stranger.

* * *

"…I just wanted to thank you for having my back. Airports can make people crazy sometimes."

Now that she can look at him properly, she notices he's dressed casually but elegantly in a white shirt and jacket that go very well with his light hair. There's something arresting about his face - almost brutish in a certain light. As if he's had his nose broken a few times. But when he smiles that idea is dismissed quickly. The harsh lines soften and his hollow cheeks fill out in a disarming manner. He's even got dimples.

"Don't mention it. I can't abide by assholes, and I have a feeling you don't either."

"Oh," she smiles, clearing her throat, "what gave you that idea?"

"Well, I think you handled him pretty well for what was worth."

They're pacing together aimlessly through the waiting area.

"I have some practice with difficult people. I work in a hotel."

"Oh," he pauses, "the Marriott, Hilton…?"

"Mystic Falls, actually."

"Of course," he chuckles, "Virginia. Which is why you're on the delayed flight, just like me."

"There you go, mystery solved," she quips without missing a beat. "Well, it was lovely talking to you and thank you once again for being such a gentleman."

She's got the Southern manners down to a tee.

He smiles. "Any time."

He can see she is about to make her strategic exit, and while he could let her go for now (they are going to board the same plane, after all) he'd rather keep her under direct supervision. She has been his target for a while now. It would be refreshing not to spy on her through binoculars, to have a proper conversation instead.

"You know what I love about flying?" he asks just as she is about to turn away.

"Mm?"

"You don't have to be sober to travel."

* * *

It takes a bit of plying, but she eventually accepts to have a drink with him. After all, the red-eye will take a while to board. And he _did_ stand up for her back there. They occupy two seats at the bar and start perusing the menu. Klaus knows what she is going to order. He knows her favorite cocktail by now. She is a creature of linear habit. It's going to be grapefruit sea breeze, because it's a healthier choice. Or at least that is what she tells herself.

"Let me guess," he drawls, turning towards her, "if I may."

Caroline folds her hands in her lap. "Oh, sure. Give it a try. But I should warn you I'm a picky drinker."

"Hmmm, I'm sensing vodka."

Caroline nods appreciatively. "Good start."

"Sweetened, though," he adds with a glint in his eye. "But with what?"

She flicks a lock of hair over her shoulder nervously. "I'm not giving you any hints."

Klaus smiles. "I suppose a screwdriver is too dull…a Cape Cod too pedestrian…a White Russian too risque…"

Caroline chuckles. "You seem to be an expert, but no."

"That only leaves me with the simplicity of the grapefruit or the complexity of the pineapple. Is your palate simple or complex?"

His eyes, which she now notices are a dark shade of blue, survey her with something like nefarious delight. She feels a strange frisson, a tingling at the base of her spine. A small animal sensing a larger predator. Her species has carried this reflex in their genes for millennia, but she doesn't dwell on it. She's amused by this game.

"I'm going to go with…grapefruit sea breeze," he decides.

"You're awfully close." She addresses the bartender. "A bay breeze, please."

"Ah, _complex_ ," Klaus smirks. "I should've known."

* * *

She lied. In the eight weeks that he's surveilled her she's never once ordered a bay breeze. She chose differently, either to deny him or because she is hiding something. He pockets this information for later use.

"I should introduce myself. I'm Klaus. Short for Niklaus."

She takes his hand and gives it a firm shake.

"As in Santa Claus?"

He laughs, although the humor does not reach his eyes. "I do get that one a lot."

"Your parents must've wanted you to stand out."

He nods. "That or struggle. You don't get very popular with a name like mine."

"Ouch, did you ever tell them that?"

"Mm, I did. Right before I killed them."

There's a momentary pause as she registers the information and everything it implies, but he _can't_ be serious. A beat later, he is laughing. She joins him, relieved. Haha. Of course he was joking.

"Well, I'm Caroline. Short for nothing."

"I wouldn't say so. _Carolus_. You and Charlemagne share the same name. You're practically royalty."

She rolls her eyes with a smile. "That's not such a great thing sometimes. A lot of people think I'm…"

"High-maintenance?"

"That obvious, huh?" she laughs. "I mean you met that guy back there. He thinks I'm a piece of work."

"He doesn't know that quality takes effort, though, does he?"

Caroline chokes on her drink and swallows down quickly. She can't help but flush a little. There's something posh and refined about him, but there's a hint of working class mischief too.

"Does that taste all right? We could still get you a sea breeze, you know."

She makes a face. "You sound like my mom. She's always double-checking on me to see if I'm OK."

"Then, I believe you."

"Thank you."

They spend some moments in companionable silence and he decides to let it linger. He wants to see if she'll be the one to break it.

"So, what brought you to Louisiana?" she asks tentatively.

"Oh, business as usual," he says lightly, leaning his elbow against the counter. "Had to clean up after some dead weight. You?"

"Work meeting with a potential investor. We're thinking of buying a location in the French Quarter."

She's not lying about this, thankfully. He knows the name of the investor. He knows everything.

It's rather quaint that she visited his old haunt. Sometimes destiny works in mysterious ways, as they say. Of course, that's why they hire him. To make sure destiny doesn't play tricks.

He smiles. "I can't fault you there. The Quarter is not to be missed."

"You've been?"

"Countless times," he replies. "I can almost call it home."

Their conversation comes to a halt as the voice on the intercom announces that they are ready to board the midnight flight to Virginia. Everyone in the waiting room starts clapping excitedly.

Caroline puts down the drink. "Well, I guess that's the end of the line for us."

"So it would seem."

They get up in slow-motion. She wobbles a bit on her heels before regaining her balance. She appears to be a little tipsy. Good.

"It was lovely meeting you. Have a good flight, Caroline."

"Oh, you too...Klaus."

He doesn't give her much time to react. He walks away, already pulling out his phone. He must not seem eager to linger or follow her to the gate. It must all look like mere chance.

* * *

Caroline stares after him for a moment, but then his figure recedes in the crowd and he's lost to her eyesight.

Well, there goes the silver lining of this tedious flight. It's very unlikely she'll bump into him in coach. The odds are against her. And to be honest, does she _really_ want to see him again?

 _Yes._

But she shouldn't. There's something about him…He was very polite and obliging, not to mention attractive, but it's almost too good to be true.

Well, she doesn't have to think about it since she'll never see him again.


End file.
